


Solitary Divergence

by blubu



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: A little bit of gore at one point but I don't think it warrants a warning, Abigail's a ray of sunshine, First Meetings, Or People, Or socializing really, Wendy's a spicy kid, Wilson doesn't understand kids, at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 22:09:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blubu/pseuds/blubu
Summary: “Miss, um, M-miss Wendy,” The breathless stutter grew quieter as the figure slowly made its way ever closer to him. “What is, um, well, wh-what is that?”Wendy made her way back over to the fire, sitting on the other side of it as before with a content expression on her face. “I told you, Mister Higgsbury. That’s Abigail.”





	Solitary Divergence

**Author's Note:**

> i loVe wenDY?? beST GIRL

He wasn’t lonely.

 

Sure, Wilson had been alone for a long time, here in the Constant and back home in isolated woods. But he never minded it.

 

The amateur scientist had learned to survive this wretched place alone. He may have had the help of Chester, but the animal didn’t provide any sort of human companionship. The walking ball of fluff  _ was _ quite cuddly, however.

 

Point being, Wilson didn’t mind the solitude. He was used to it — _ reveled  _ in it, even. He believed the seclusion back home aided him in his scientific work. (But if any of that ended in success, he wouldn’t be here, would he?)

 

It was just another day of work. He had collected rabbits caught in his traps, picked berries from the bright green foliage, and now he set upon building up his supply of wood.

 

Again, he had been here a while. He had a high stock of goods, but the itching feeling needing to do  _ something _ outweighed the possible price of a surplus.

 

He set his axe against a tree and began whacking.

  
  


Night soon began to fall.

 

The moon ascended over his head. It was only late evening, so the monsters of the dark had yet to come out and play, but he refused to take any chances. He packed up his things and left.

 

The sound of a crackling fire met his ears as he approached his small base. He paused for a moment, noting the rise of smoke and barely visible light. Had something managed to catch fire in his time away? It was nearing  _ Winter _ , for the love of science; just what could have caused it?

Maneuvering his way around the myriad of chests filled with miscellaneous items he had set up, the ravenette finally laid eyes on where the fire was emitting from—his own firepit. Just past the fire, a small girl sat upon the grass.

 

Wilson blinked and rubbed his eyes when the image still hadn’t dissipated.

 

Was he perhaps going crazy again? Was Maxwell playing some cruel trick on him? In all his time in this wretched place, he had  _ never  _ laid eyes on another human seemingly in the same situation as him.

 

“He-hello..?” Wilson called in a shaking voice, still determining whether or not the being in front of him was a threat or not.

 

The girl’s head snapped in his direction, bringing her features into the light. She had blonde pigtails with pink flowers at their bases, and another flower pinned atop the left of her head. Her eyes were completely white with no irises or pupils, and heavy bags hung just beneath them. In her hands, she was petting the petals of another flower. It was almost glowing in her hands.

 

The most curious observation he made, however, was that she was a  _ child _ .

 

The girl turned back away to stare at her flower once more, no response made.

 

He approached slowly, careful not to frighten her. “Are you—are you alright?” He stuttered out, unsure of his own social abilities. “Are you all alone..?”

 

She almost tensed at that, holding the flower closer. “No,” A near whisper left her. “I’m not alone. Never.”

 

Wilson squatted on the other end of the fire, sure now that the child doesn't appear afraid. He raised a brow. “That’s, um, good. So, there are others nearby?” He was glad at least that the seemingly 12-year-old wasn't on her own. This place wasn’t very friendly to the innocent.

 

She shook her head. “Here,” She muttered. 

 

Wilson took a quick scan, expecting to find some other person hobbling around his camp, but found no one. He decided to lay off for now.

 

“Oh, alright…” He looked to the side, standing and making his way over to his crockpot to begin making dinner. The kid was most likely famished, with how skinny she seemed. “Well, my name’s, uh, Wilson. Wilson… Higgsbury.”

 

The girl was silent, gaze flickering between his crockpot and the flower grasped gently in her hands. He turned away, assuming she may have just not trusted him yet, as her quiet voice rang out again.

 

“Wendy,” She replied, hands lifting the flower higher into the air. “And this is Abigail.”

  
  


Wendy nearly scarfed down her meatballs once receiving them, but Wilson noted that she was smart enough to never eat fast enough to choke. She had grown silent once more when he had begun asking more questions, and he had decided she had probably been through enough for one day. He relaxed in the light of the fire and pulled himself into the silence, taking out his bag as the blonde watched without a word. He pulled out the rabbits he had caught earlier that day and turned away so he could snap their necks without the child having to see.

 

“Mister Higgsbury,” She finally spoke as he held his third rabbit, “could I have one, please?”

 

He blinked at the odd request but handed the one he was grasping over to her without a fuss. She cradled the smaller being in her arms before gently letting it go, not to his surprise.

 

_ To _ his surprise, however, she then picked up a rock and nearly chased it into the darkness before using the object to bash its head in.

 

He could only stare in shock at the blood now on the rock and her hand, and the absolute dead look in her eyes. Before he could speak up to question her actions, a small mist began to ooze out of the flower he now noticed she had left aside.

 

The mist formed a body with the flower now perched on the right side of the figure’s head— _ opposite of Wendy’s _ , he noted—with features beginning to fill out. Two pigtails, a young, girlish frame, and two white eyes with no other features present on its face. Below the waist stayed a misty trail, and its entire body was white.

 

He looked with wide eyes to see Wendy’s reaction to this but was in surprise to see her  _ smiling _ . He could tell something had drained her, but she was happy.

 

“Miss, um, M-miss Wendy,” The breathless stutter grew quieter as the figure slowly made its way ever closer to him. “What is, um, well, wh-what is  _ that _ ?”

 

Wendy made her way back over to the fire, sitting on the other side of it as before with a content expression on her face. “I told you, Mister Higgsbury. That’s Abigail.”

 

He nodded shakily and flinched back as the figure reached out to him, scrambling backward and into a chest. He drew in shaky breaths. “O-okay, okay, but, uh, wh-what exactly  _ is  _ this, um, Abigail?”

 

Wendy sat in silence for a moment, making him fear the absolute worse. “My sister,” She finally spoke. “She has already met her untimely but inevitable demise, existing on with me.” She smiled at the misty figure, who parted from Wilson to smile back (at least that’s what he assumed she did, considering she didn’t seem to have a mouth). “She is, what you could say, a ghost.”

 

The scientist sputtered at this, immediately sitting himself up straight to throw his lanky arms up into the air. “That’s  _ preposterous _ !” He exclaimed. “Scientifically  _ impossible on all accounts _ . She is most likely some sort of entity this hellish place has designed to tether you to it. Furthermore—” He glanced back at Wendy, only to see an expression akin to  _ anger _ on her face.

 

“You no not what you speak of, Higgsbury.” She spoke in nearly that same monotone voice, now with an edge to it. “Death is beyond the realm of your pitiful science. Do not speak as if you understand the morality of life and death, and don’t pretend as if you’ve seen it in any other place than this hell. Abigail’s always been with me, ever since she died. I could feel her clinging onto her flower, and at least now I can finally communicate with her,  _ see her _ .” Wendy stepped closer to the fire and he almost wanted to warn her, but she stayed a safe distance away. “Here’s something you may have not realized: I do not regret coming here. Death would have found me there anyway—by my own hand or by the hand of insanity, but here I feel the release of death over and over and come back with the knowledge that Abigail is right by my side. I carry on for  _ her  _ sake.”

 

She finally seemed burnt out, and plopped herself back onto the grass. She curled up in herself as Abigail watched in concern close by.

 

The scientist slowly took in her words, and sighed. Of  _ course  _ he shouldn’t have said that to a  grieving little girl—even with his lack of social insight, that much was clear. He stood to his feet and walked around the fire to her side and set a hand on her shoulder. Wendy didn’t complain.

 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, and squeezed her shoulder. She glanced at him, before turning away.

 

“Don’t apologize to  _ me _ .”

 

He blinked, registering her words, before looking at the ghostly figure who still seemed concerned for her sister. He sighed.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Abigail.” He muttered, watching as her eyes brightened up and she shook her head. He smiled and took that as forgiveness. Wendy uncurled at that as well, happy that her sister was happy. 

 

Wilson stood and clapped his hands. “We’re well into the night. It’s time to sleep, Miss Wendy.” He glanced behind him, stroking his beard in thought. “I only have one tent, as I wasn’t expecting any new additions..” He sheepishly admitted. “So I’ll take the ground tonight.”

 

Wendy nearly smiled at that. “Thank you, Mister Higgsbury.” She muttered, walking around him and climbing into his tent. He smiled.

 

“Of course. Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight.”

  
  


The next morning, Wilson awoke stiff almost all over. He had the ground to thank for that. He looked over his inventory and began preparations to head out, as a small hand grasped his arm. He looked down to see a groggy, just-woken-up Wendy. “Mister Higgsbury, where are you going?”

 

The scientist heaved the pack onto his back. “Just to stock up on food, like berries and vegetables.”

 

She looked down, silent for a few moments. “May I come?”

 

He smiled. “Of course, Miss Wendy.”

  
Wilson  _ was  _ lonely, he finally admitted. But now he didn’t have to be, with Wendy and Abigail by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> i love fics where Wendy and Webber refer to the adults as "miss __" or "mister __" bC LOOK AT THESE POLITE CHILDREN THEY DESERVE THE WOR L D


End file.
